


Stockholmed

by Shadow_Side



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Knifeplay, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 15:03:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/941369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow_Side/pseuds/Shadow_Side
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At first he has no choice... but by the end, he will choose it all willingly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stockholmed

The first time, Kolya knows it was all coercion. Even having been held deep within the Genii bunker for almost a week, Rodney McKay was still strong enough not to go willingly. The guards raised eyebrows, but looked the other way when Kolya had the doctor brought to his room one night.

He remembers the way Rodney protested, wrists bound to the headboard of Kolya's bed, shaking in very genuine fear as Kolya traced the contours of the doctor's body with the blade of his knife, never pressing close enough to cut, but never pressing light enough to feel safe either. And he doesn't forget the continual, desperate pleas for Kolya to stop, to let him go, to revert to some other interrogation method because this was simply too much.

Acastus Kolya had interrogated a great many people before he met Rodney McKay. Some broke under verbal pressure alone. Some broke under physical torture. There may even have been one who would not break – but if there was, Kolya never mentions it.

In all that time, he never tried something like this, because to him it was more than just another way to lay on the pressure. Acastus Kolya does not bring false emotions into the picture.

He does, however, believe in using genuine ones when necessary.

He remembers the way the pleas never stopped, even while Rodney lay gasping as Kolya jerked him off, resorting to a level of pace and interest that the doctor clearly never expected his captor to show.

The commander never spoke. Not that time.

By the third night, Rodney's pleas had grown less desperate, less frequent, though they were still there. He tried, so, so hard, to appeal to whatever part of Kolya had suddenly developed this interest in him, needing him to stop because he couldn't cope, because there had to be another way.

Any way.

This time, Kolya did speak, but only to tell Rodney to quieten, to relax, to stop fighting, because there _was_ no other way.

But he lay with the doctor for longer that night, once both of them were sated, until Rodney seemed to accept that his pleas were useless; until he accepted that all he could do was lie there and watch Kolya stare at him.

And wonder why.

The fifth night was quieter still, and when Rodney spoke, he seemed far more engaged with what was going on. As the knife blade traced meticulously over now well-mapped skin, the pace measured and deliberate, he seemed almost to be gasping in apprehension, whispering words of encouragement.

Words that Kolya took to heart. Words that rang in his ears as he effortlessly caressed the other man's body with cold, beautiful metal, paying attention so as to find the places that Rodney most enjoyed having touched. And watching, watching as light caught the blade, shimmering as it moved; bright and deadly and _powerful_.

But not harmful. Not there. Not like that.

Rodney was still clearly confused, obviously wondering why Kolya brought him there, night after night, did this to him, night after night; never asking him anything, never demanding that he do any more than lie there and accept the attention.

But it was still difficult attention to accept, and, despite everything else, Rodney never stopped saying that it was all too much.

It was the sixth night which changed everything. As Rodney lay back, shirt already off, Kolya settling into place beside him, the doctor chose to speak – and to say something that he hadn't voiced before.

"I won't try to run," he said, managing to make eye-contact. "That is… I mean… I won't fight, so you don't need to tie me up. I… you can, but… you don't have to."

This was interesting. Kolya gave Rodney a very, very careful look, accepting and holding the eye-contact without hesitation. But he didn't say anything yet, the silence forcing Rodney to speak again.

"Please, I… I promise I won't try anything underhand. I just… want this to be my choice."

"Why?" Kolya asked. He didn't need to, of course, but getting Rodney to voice the answer seemed important.

"Because it can be," Rodney replied, sounding surer of himself. "And that's… that's better than force. I mean, it has to be, because choice validates things, and avoids other things that are less preferable – and I think it would be better that way."

"All right," Kolya agreed. "But keep your hands where I can see them. If you try anything…"

"I won't," Rodney interrupted, almost quietly. "I've told you I won't."

And Kolya merely nodded in reply, as Rodney laid his hands on the pillow above his head, fingers curling into his palms.

Slowly, slowly, Kolya now raised his knife, the blade beginning to trace well-practiced patterns over Rodney's skin, drawing a half-shivered breath from the doctor's lips almost at once. Up across his chest, curving around his shoulder, then down along his side, the pressure almost teasingly light – and all the while, Kolya kept his eyes on Rodney's. Watching him. Reading him.

The blade pressed harder as it drew lower, and Rodney whimpered a little, obviously fighting the urge to resist – but he didn't. He didn't, and he wouldn't. Kolya knew that. Because part of him – a part Rodney might still have denied – couldn't help wanting this, now. Well. Maybe not yet wanting. Needing.

It was obvious why. Outside, Rodney McKay was a Genii prisoner, a source of information, a well to be tapped. Nothing more.

In here… for some reason, he was different. Wanted. Chosen. And that can have a powerful psychological effect – on both the chosen, and the chooser.

That is something many people miss. But not Kolya. Oh no.

Rodney closed his eyes, head tilted back to breathe again, and now Kolya let the blade drift up the side of his neck, curling under his ear and down once more, the movement constantly slow and almost thoughtful. Contemplative. Rodney's eyelids flickered, never truly opening. "Yes," he whispered, arching ever so slightly into the knife. "Please, I… I just need…"

"Shhh," Kolya whispered in return, leaning closer – so close that the blade could almost have brushed against him, too. "You don't have to say anything. Not here. Not now."

And for a few more moments, Rodney was silent again – save for his slightly irregular breaths, chest rising and falling in response to the different ways the knife was drawn across his skin.

It left marks, but they would fade; fade, until nothing was left on the outside. Only the inside.

After some time, Kolya leant to lay the knife down, now letting his hand drift to Rodney's pants – unzipping them slowly, brushing over the fabric beneath. Rodney seemed to stifle a moan at that, though his eyes were open now; open and fixed pleadingly on Kolya's.

But not pleading him to stop. Not anymore.

Slowly, Kolya pushed down Rodney's pants, palm stroking along his groin as he did, and this time the other man did moan, tongue dragging over his lip. Hand back up, now slipping under Rodney's boxers, Kolya slid those down too, finally able to run his fingers along Rodney's hardened cock.

"Oh God," the doctor whimpered. "I need…"

"Need?" Kolya interrupted, still almost idly trailing his fingers up and down over the same patch of tender skin. "Need, or want?"

"Need," Rodney repeated, biting his lip.

Fingers circled, slow and light, tips dragging only slightly. Rodney arched a little again, trying to intensify the contact – but Kolya had no intention of letting him. Not yet. His hand drifted lower, cupping at the other man's balls for a moment, before trailing up his cock again.

"Harder," Rodney whispered, desperately. " _Please_."

And Kolya, the slightest smile crossing his lips, leaned in close – until they were almost eye-to-eye. "Need," he repeated, softly, "or want?"

Rodney stared at him, blinking in understanding. "Want," he breathed.

The pressure on his cock tripled at once, sending the doctor's head rocking back in sudden surprise, a half-strangled gasp cutting the air.

"Like that?" Kolya whispered.

"Yes," Rodney managed to reply. "God, yes."

Gripping tighter, moving faster, Kolya stayed in close, knowing how much the desperate pressure would be building, able to feel the shivers in Rodney's body already. He could feel sudden craving in his own body, now, but all his focus was on the other man, and he wasn't going to be distracted.

Not yet.

"Please," Rodney whispered again. "I want…"

"I know," Kolya breathed in response. "I know."

Rodney bit his lip again, harder this time, seemingly unable to keep his eyes open as obvious waves of pleasure began to build in him, rippling right to the tips of his extremities as Kolya worked around his cock. The pressure may have been increased, but Kolya knew – from practice – how to prolong this, how to hold Rodney just short of satisfaction, how to make him need and want in equal measure.

That was the real trick – and one which was almost entirely in the mind.

Then, at last, he let the other man tumble over the edge, a sharp cry escaping Rodney's lips as he came, almost desperate to prolong the release as much as possible. Finally, Rodney sank back into the bed, all of the tension dropping out of his body – and he opened his eyes to find Kolya still staring at him.

The commander was almost aching for attention of his own, now, but he didn't need to rush it, didn't need to resort to the firm haste of those early days. He knew that he would be sated soon; that Rodney would do it for him without even being asked.

Because the doctor was right – this _was_ all too much. In many ways, that was the point.

"Why do you do this?" Rodney breathed. "Why do you care?"

And Kolya gave him the lightest smile. "Because I can."

It's amazing what can be achieved with violence… but far more amazing to see what one can achieve without it.


End file.
